(Written one night while wrestling with the anger that finds its way into the process of grief, either on its own or provoked by something someone said. Shared in an effort to help others better understand the grieving soul.)

Cut me some slack.

Don’t take it personally if I turn down your invitation to dinner or if I don’t seem enthused by your offer to spend the day together. Forgive me if I don’t return your phone call for a few days — okay, weeks.

I’m not breaking up with you.

I’m suffering with grief.

No, I’m not curled up in the fetal position, wiping away tears with the same tissue that I just used to blow my nose … or maybe I am.  I’m not wallowing in self-pity either, at least not every day.

I’m just learning to live with loss, and that takes time.

So, excuse me from my usual interest in your life. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. In fact, I think of you often. I’ve just had to narrow my world considerably, increase my margins, choose more carefully how and with whom I spend my time.

Those who are compelled to rescue others, please don’t go all co-dependent on me. Sure, I may be a little depressed from time to time, but no more than the average person visited by grief.

If it helps to understand, I am in full introvert mode. It drains me more than ever to be interacting with people. I require more solitude these days, so don’t expect too much from me.

Give me your patience. Be okay with the space between us.

Those of you prone to worry and drama, resist the urge to let your imagination run wild picturing me on a ledge looking down. After all, I live in a one-story home!

I’ll call for help if I need it. I promise.

I haven’t lost my faith, either. I still have hope. So don’t waste your time preaching to me about focusing on my many blessings or how grateful I should be that Paul is in heaven with Jesus. You mean well, I know, but it doesn’t sit well with me. Not now.

The truth is, you can’t shorten my time of grief. I won’t let you. This is a very personal walk that I must make on my own, in my own way and time.

If you want to help, cut me some slack and have faith that this, too, shall pass.

I’ll come around at some point.

Trust me. I will.

Author

I am a Christian, the youngest of four daughters born into a typically loud and loving Italian-American family, recently widowed, proud mom of two very special young women, step-mom of a quick-witted son, mother-in-law to his talented wife, rightfully biased grandmother of two adorable girls, caregiver of my 97-year-young father, friend of many amazing women and men, writer and blogger.

6 Comments

  1. Leslie Green Reply

    Hey,

    Just wanted you to know that when I clicked on the link, I got an error. I did find the story on your site, but then got an error when attempting to comment.

    xox

    Les

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  2. Janet Bratt Reply

    I love your writings! Thank you. Thank you for expressing and putting in writing what many feel when they lose someone so dear. I think of you often and wish we were closer. I have so many fond memories of great conversations with both you and Paul. Take the time to grieve. We grieve because we love!

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